


I've Just Heard a Voice

by lover_of_blue_roses



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band), The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Freddie is a little star struck, Live Aid, M/M, McCharming is confident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-10-19 10:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20655470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lover_of_blue_roses/pseuds/lover_of_blue_roses
Summary: Freddie is excited to be on the same stage as Paul McCartney. And McCartney is pleased to meet such talent too, very pleased.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: rareship challenge
> 
> The rating of explicit will be soon but not in this chapter

This whole day had turned out to be a dream. Queen, Freddie definitely included, had been nervous and worried. The bigger the crowd meant the more people they could fuck up in front of. And this crowd, both in person and at home, wasn't made up of Queen fans which meant they they could alienate potential future fans. But that also meant the more people they could impress. And impress they, Freddie, did. Boy, did he ever.

And then once Queen's fabulously, flawless, enthralling set was done, Freddie got to go back out with Brian to preform 'Is This the World We Created?' and then for the 'encore.'

Freddie had been young, a teenager and in college, in the 60's. He had drawn sketches of Paul McCartney in his art journal. It was easy to idolize the man he was a talented musician in every way; playing all his instruments, his singing voice, writing songs, lyrics and melodies. It also didn't hurt how handsome he was. This morning he woke up with the thought that he was going to be in the same lineup as him and now this evening, they sang together on the same stage, mere feet away. Despite this Freddie doesn't know if McCartney even knows who he is. They didn't make eye contact or anything. Bono getting between them and hogging the microphone.

(Freddie might have negative feelings towards Bono because of his shenanigans of jumping into the crowd because 'I was so far away, I couldn't reach them.' Freddie might get eye strain from how hard that made him roll his eyes. Freddie had been able to connect without wasting his time. )

And then Freddie left the stage at curtain call with everyone else, thinking he'd come close but without contact this time. Freddie would reach further and further heights and they would see each other again. Freddie was confident they would meet, the same way he was confident Queen would make it. Backstage the boys are waiting for him, Deaky and Roger have clearly already started to enjoyed themselves. Brian and Hutton are chatting, getting along as he had hoped they would.

This is Jim's first rock concert and Freddie hopes he was appropriately thrilled. Earlier they had found a little bit of privacy in the trailer and had enjoyed themselves after Freddie's masterful performance. The control over the entire crowd had left Freddie light headed from the power-rush. Jim is very nice and sexy, even though not always as understanding of Freddie's lifestyle. Freddie is currently wearing Winnie's silver ring, a sign of his claim. Not that Freddie must be faithful, only that he is to return to Winnie.

Jim, demanding little thing, wants more commitment from Freddie than that. He also wants things like emotional availability. Which is maybe a bit much as Freddie would rather not have his heart broken again. Jim however does want to be treated with respect and that's reasonable, Freddie could do better. It's a delicate tightrope between Jim's demands and what Freddie is willing to give of himself. They'll probably fine a balance; unless they don't but then they'll just break up.

Freddie greets them enthusiastically, riding high just from the experience of performing again. Roger is just as excitable but mostly from the cocaine. Freddie dramatic lays himself down over Jim's lap. Jim appreciates the enthusiasm but realistically understands that as pump-up as Freddie is this evening Jim alone probably won't be enough. It's not surprising at this point and Jim had some idea what he was getting into when he hooked up with a guy that started a conversation with 'how big is your cock?'

People have naturally grouped themselves by their professions; musicians, technicians and roadies. It's a unique chance to meet people in the same business as them. Queen is seated in the area between their trailers. Sharon, the Elton John himself, arrives appropriately dramatically next, draping himself on top of Freddie giggling uncontrollably. It's unlikely _his_ high is just from the performance.

Jim grunts from underneath at the added weight.

"Oh is this the new squeeze? He's so handsome!" Elton gushes.

"Oh, more than that," Freddie defends.

Jim isn't a doormat, and he's not about to be cowed by Elton's fame, "Well I wouldn't say I'm his squeeze so much as he's mine." Jim, normally more of a bottom, had had to become a top for Freddie.

"Oh, I'm sure that's fun," Elton looks at Freddie in that skin-tight revealing tank top with appreciation. "But don't you miss it?" And there is a devilish glint in this pianist's eyes.

Jim cuts a look to Freddie who is looking at the both of them in delight because of course he is. Possibly the only thing hotter than Jim Hutton being Freddie's is him being at the pleasure of his idols. Jim looks at Elton who wasn't really jesting, this is a real offer. Jim didn't believe that topping and bottoming were as dominant and as submissive as others thought, Freddie was certainly the definition of a bossy bottom. And Jim had missed the physical sensation, "I might."

Freddie wiggled from Jim's lap while leaving Elton there. He clapped his hands with glee. "Excellent! I'm so happy you two can get along. You'll have to tell me all about it. I'm afraid I've never had the pleasure, I've never been offered," Freddie said as dramatically as possible with a wink.

Elton looks at Freddie seriously and straights up into a proper sitting position, "You must know Melina, of course, that my affection for you is truly boundless."

Freddie smirks well aware that they feel more comfortable not mixing sex into their friendship at this stage and not truly offended. "I'm sure you two will be able to have fun without me," He blows them a saucy kiss and leaves them to it. A third wheel to watch, especially such a concerned party, can only make things more complicated.

Brian stands up with a look of amusement on his face. He's very use to Freddie's and Roger's open relationship at this point and is more enjoying the thought of Elton and Freddie, who don't want to complicate their relationship with sex, throwing Freddie's newest boyfriend into the mix.

They go to find Roger. Roger, with Crystal his roadie looming behind, is star-struck in a conversation with Bowie. They've briefly meet before during the recording of Under Pressure but Roger remains a big, big fan, clearly enthralled with every word Bowie is saying. Bowie seems to be at the very least humoring the drummer by giving him his undivided attention in return. So they pass without interrupting. Roger could only possibly be more impressed by Bruce Springsteen. Crystal is the only one to notice them, he makes eye contact and rolls his eyes at his boss' behavior.

Brian snickers but Freddie breaks out into loud guffaws, leaning on his guitarist as his body shakes. "Ah just the man I was looking for! Easy to find you with a voice like that," Paul McCartney says as he approaches with his charming smile.

Freddie covers up his mouth and teeth as his laughter dies down. He will not say something silly like, 'It's a pleasure to meet you.' He will not behave like Roger. He can and will contain himself in front of this living legend, a rock god and one of the most commercially successful musicians ever. He swallows and straightens his back. The best way to deal with this is to be casual, like he might with anyone that approached him. "Yes, well darling, here I am." There's a joke on the tip of his tongue that 'if you want an autograph, you'll have to give on in return,' but thankfully Freddie has enough restraint to bite it back before making a fool of himself.

McCartney looks right into Freddie's eyes, "You were really marvelous out there. The songs are good of course, but they would be nothing without your performance. You had them in the palm of your hand. It was very impressive - I was very impressed."

Brian can tell when he's not needed and slowly inches back. "Oh, and of course, congratulations to the whole band," He extends his hand and they shake peremptorily.

Brian can tell he is being dismissed, "Thank you, you too." He pats Freddie on the back and they exchange a look. What's good about knowing each other for over fifteen years is how easily they can understand each other without any words.

Brian goes and Freddie is left standing there with his idol of twenty years. "Today has been alot or am I just getting old?"

Freddie shakes his head, "No, no. I'm sure that's not it, I found today tiring too. Unless that means we are both old. Of course, today has been alot and the build it up to was certainly something."

Paul smiles at his reassurances. "Would you mind if we went to go sit somewhere quieter?"

Again Freddie shakes his head and Paul leads them off. "It certainly was but it seems to have been worth it in the end."

"Yes, Bob raised the money he needed for his cause and the crowd certainly seemed to have gotten their money's worth," Freddie says as it is genuinely the first thing to come to mind as Brian and Roger have been talking about it passionately.

"That too," Paul says with a sweet smile and Freddie remembers what he's heard about McCartney. That he's a vegetarian like Bri and a soft soul that advocates for the rights of the innocent. It hadn't consciously been Freddie's intentions to play that up to score points. "I also think this day will live on as a piece of Music and Rock history. It's hard to tell before they happen and it's not necessarily certain just after it's finished but I," He shakes his head and smiles, "I'll always regret that we weren't a part of Woodstock. I don't think we were in the best place, with the band, to do that and yet I think it would have been better to go and fail than to have never tried at all."

Freddie nods along as they walk further and further backstage; Freddie had assumed they were going to Paul's trailer but he must be mistaken. The Beatles had started out as clean-cut young men that were very much part of the establishment but along the way, they had... grown out of it. Paul had famously spoken about doing LSD, and they had been renowned for doing drugs, they had grown out their hair and dressed however they fancied. It's odd to think that Queen has kind of done the reverse, they -under Freddie's strict directions- had started out as the height of glam rock fashion but over the years Freddie had become more and more restraint and normal with his stage wear.

"Yes, we -I don't know if you are aware of what's been happening with Queen- but we too weren't in the best place to be partaking and actually," Freddie blushes lightly in shame at the almost-regret of missing out, "Bob had to convince me, a little. I was so upset with him not calling me for the Band Aid, Do They Know It's Christmas?, and we were just finishing up a tour and actually the doctor said I probably shouldn't over exert my voice too much. But I think it was worth it, it was a short performance, less than twenty minutes-"

"You sounded lovely today, it's hard to imagine, it gets any better than that," Paul complimented generously.

"Why, thank you. You weren't bad yourself."

"When they could hear me!" Paul jokes. Freddie's happy he can joke about it because if that had happened to him Freddie would be mortified and then enraged.

"It feels like there are always technical problems and they always happen at the worst possible times. Like why couldn't have been during like Kershaw's set instead," Freddie states one of the lesser artists; even if he's no Boomtown Rats who were clearly only there because of Geldof despite having faded from all relevancy.

"I know right," Paul starts to laugh at the insult they are implying. "I only have one song- one!- and I- you know," He tries to beat around the bush politely.

"Are one of the biggest draws?" Freddie offers.

"At least one of the biggest name, I'd say you're performance was better than mine, technical problem or not."

"I, well, thank you," Freddie not sure how to best respond to that complement.

They've emerge from the stadium to an alley between everything. There are traffic cones, police tape and scaffolding to create the need spaces for this event, not dissimilar from where the porta potties are. They clear the area to come to a dust road that has a shiny black limo waiting and a chauffeur resting on the hood with a newspaper, "Sir," he greets McCartney straightening up and folding his newspaper under his arm.

The chauffeur comes and opens the door revealing the lush interior that Freddie is familiar with. "I was thinking we could go somewhere, anywhere really, to sit down away from the crowd, relax and talk."

Well now that Freddie's been lead here and the chauffeur is just there holding the door open he can't really politely say no. "Certainly, thank you," He nods to the driver. Well played McCharming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Roger Bowie (bonus Crystal) is just for Catnip.
> 
> I couldn't think of a reason to get rid of May and my friend was like couldn't he just fall down a well and disappear which was not conducive to writing but a really funny idea.


	2. Chapter 2

The limo has all the standard luxuries except that rather than leather, the seats seem to be made from some kind of vinyl fabric. The limo can comfortable seat at least six but of all the seat Paul choses to seat right, right next to him, not even leaving the casual middle seat open. Maybe it's not just wishful thinking, maybe McCartney is really trying to....something. It's best not to get one's hopes up. 

They settle like that thigh-to-thigh in tha back seat. Without telling Freddie where they are going, the limo starts to drive. Freddie won't dare ask his host and the driver is completely obscured behind a thick privacy window. 

"Would you like something to drink?" Paul offers waving his hand at the mini-bar as he begins to rummage for himself. "I've heard you like champagne, I can offer you some."

Freddie thinks about it. He wants to say yes, he really does and Paul can see it in his face. "Well, you see- I've been drink quite a bit of champagne all day today and a little bit of vodka. I could use with a change but maybe... I do like a Waterloo Sunset but I don't know if you'd have any Elderflower Liqueur-"

"I think I do have a bottle of St-Germain. I certainly have Chambord, it's right here," Paul rummages around until he finds all the ingredients. "Would you like the honor?" Paul teases as he offers Freddie the unopened bottle. While opening Champagne bottles are still fun, the specialness, of it has worn off as they do it so often. 

Freddie smiles back in what he hopes is a coy and teasing manner as he takes the bottle and deftly uncorks it. The pop is quiet but distinct and McCartney is waiting with two fancy crystal flute. He adds the gin and two liqueur to Freddie's glass.

"I'm sorry to be so demanding."

"There's nothing to apologize for, I offered, you asked. No harm done, even if I didn't have it." Paul makes himself a simpler Chambord Royale. With his drink in hand, Paul leans back so they are shoulder-to-shoulder and he places an arm around Fred so they are really as close as they can be. 

Freddie doesn't want to break their contact or make space and yet there is still one more piece of business he must attend to before he can enjoy whatever this night has in store for him. He takes a sip of his drink and lets the delicious flavor coat his tongue. It also happens to be the perfect temperature of being chilled without being cold. "Cocktails. I don't know where the name comes for or why but man, it's one hell of a name."

Paul laughs heartily. "Maybe because when birds have enough of them, cock might be getting some tail."

Freddie joins in the laughter at the thought, "If the only way you can get a bird is by getting her drunk, you -" Freddie can't even think of something strong enough, "Are complete shit."

They laughs as Paul proposes a toast. "To today and the history we made, to tomorrow when it shall become history."

"Cheers." Freddie is impressed by the witty turn of phrase. He tends more to toast to thinks like 'To everyone getting absolutely fucked up tonight.' Which reminds him of- "I don't imagine this car has a phone? I need to make sure my driver and minders knows." Car phones are new, but for already now a few years, so hopefully they won't have to stop to find one. Freddie only just got one on his London car. 

Paul nods with a pleased smile, of course the rich bastard has one. He slides a planel aside to reveal on in the console. Freddie fishes out his wallet that his card of phone numbers as he has yet to memorize the car one. He leans forward to pick up the receiver and dial in the number. He then leans back so he's again snuggled up under McCartney's arm, returning the flirtatious gestures that Paul has been initiating and Freddie carefully hasn't been rejecting. 

Freddie chews on his lip a little nervously because -!- they really are flirting. He was so anxious this morning about how well the band was going to do at Live Aid that he doesn't even remember if it was Graham or Terry that drove him. He kind of really wants a cigarette but with the phone in one hand and the drink in the other it'll have to wait a little. And also cigarettes are great for calming down but Freddie also tends to use them to distance himself from people and conversations. Which is good for an annoying interview but less so a potential partner, no matter how nerve-racking their presence is.

From this close Freddie can smell Paul McCartney's cologne and sweat. Oh god, Freddie tenses. He hasn't showered since he was on stage either. He went up there and he absolutely sweat buckets. There's no way he doesn't smell much worse. Afterwards he had wiped himself down the best he could in the limited time which made him dry but not clean, he must absolutely rink of sweat. 

Paul looks down at Freddie's tensing in his arms but before Freddie can say anything Graham answers the phone, Freddie tries to make a conscious effort to relax his body. "So I'm off," Freddie starts. 

Graham has not only been Freddie's chauffeur but also a friend so he easily understands and makes a cooing sound, "Sounds great, I'll let Phoebe know. Will you need a pick up?"

"I'll let you know. Jim's not with me but I think he's returning with Sharon so I don't know how long you'll want to wait-"

"What's nice about Jim is that he's going to let me know if he leaves. Anything else?" Graham finishes cheekily. 

"No," Freddie can't help the laughter in his voice, "That'll be all, thank you." He returns the phone to its cradle and freezes as he comes to sit back. He must smell like a gym changing room.

Paul leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees. He looks at Freddie through his long lashes. "Would you like to talk about it? I apologize if I'm being to forward or if I've misread your body language. Please do tell me what's made you so uncomfortable. Would you rather my driver brought us somewhere else? Dropped you off at your home?"

He does sound genuine and the safety and security of having this option relaxes him even though this was not what he was stressing about. Lots of people, lots of people of power and lots of men Freddie has been with would apply pressure to make the person change their mind. It would be subtle or obvert but they'd find out what was wrong and dismiss or belittle any such concerns. It's so manipulative that Freddie can't always see it when he's in the middle of it. This is refreshing. Freddie didn't know what he'd do if something were to go really wrong.

There are a lot of things due to their power difference that could technically trap Freddie to do something he was uncomfortable with. If Paul McCartney were to make him somehow so uncomfortable he'd demand to leave: Paul could let Freddie out of the car without letting him use the phone or telling him where he was as to find his way home; Paul could refuse to stop the car and have them driven somewhere private or secluded; if Paul did do something against Freddie, he couldn't say anything or go to the police where it would be his word against someone more famous, wealthy and beloved. The press would have a field day. 

Freddie takes a steady breath. He wants to, he really does, he's always admired Paul McCartney and the more he's gotten to know about him, the more he's liked him. He's being a little silly and just needs to talk about it so everything can go back to the way it was. "Thank you for that kind and generous offer. That was both thoughtful and," Freddie gulps, "Not something I always-" 

Freddie leans back in the seat and slumps looking at his drink. He's barely drunk any of it and the beverage has settled into the sunset colors it gets its name from. Paul politely doesn't crowd into his space but has a soft kind and caring face that appears to be listening intently. "You're- this is a little silly," Freddie confesses taking a bracing sip from the champagne flute. 

"It's not silly if it's how you feel. That matters, and it matters to me."

Freddie will not cry in an ex-Beatles car. He can do it quietly in the dead of night in his bed like he did in boarding school. He takes another swig of his cocktail. "It's actually not at all about this. You're - wonderful and I'm so happy to be here with you. I just - your words were really sweet and derailed me for a moment, probably only made me want you more," At this Paul's concerned expression melts into a small smirk. "I just-" and Freddie can't help but to laugh at the absurdity of it now, "I'm just sure I must smell terribly after performing on stage and I didn't want my B.O. to put you off."

Paul tips his head back and laughs, the sound is rich and delightful. "I- I can't begin to tell you how much I couldn't care less. I only did one song but the stage lights still roasted me alive. I can only imagine how it was for you and your, like what, twenty minute set."

"Yes, that's true. Although it might have actually been more from the effort. And when you were out the sun had set so the lights were even brighter."

"That's true too. I got to sit at a piano and sing into the void, you were dancing and grooving all over that stage."

Freddie feels his cheeks heat from that thought, he takes another gulp of his drink. Paul McCartney watching him strut like a fool on that stage. Freddie had been having so much fun but remembers his childish behavior like showing his ass to the public. 

Paul opens up his arms and makes a slight come here gesture that Freddie easily falls into. But instead of being back to chest like before, Freddie instead comes in chest to chest. Paul wraps an arm possessively around his back, all the better to hold him close. Freddie peers into Paul's soft hazel eyes framed by thick lashes. "Is there something particular I can help you with?" Paul's soft voice brushes over his lips as they are but inches apart. His breath smells of the raspberry liqueur he's been sipping. 

"I think so but for what I have in mind we'll have to put are drinks down first," Freddie teases back. As nice as it is to jump right into it, there is also something nice about slowing down and teasing it out, letting the tension build.

Paul lifts the flute as though to put it down before changing his mind and chugging the last two gulps in the glass. Freddie is not sure why this is so funny but he can't help but to laugh. "Do you need help finishing your glass too?" Paul just offers with a wicked light dancing in his eyes.

"I think I can manage," Freddie replies tipping the cocktail back and draining it. 

They place both of their glasses down. Paul's now free hand curls at the space bridging nape and jaw. "And now that we are free, what ever shall we do?"

"I'm sure we'll think of something." Freddie carefully looks into Paul's eyes for any doubt or hesitation but all he sees is unrelenting heat. He slides up, tilts his head, closes his eyes and touches their lips together.

First the kiss is just a peck. Closed mouthed and dried lipped. But then Freddie opens up to Paul's sneaking tongue. Soon they are lip-locked as they snog passionately, breaking apart only to get some air. Paul hands are possessive as they run over Fred's body, grabbing and groping. Freddie can do nothing at first else but clutch to Paul's simple black sweater. 

Freddie can feel his insides start to smolder. His blood tingling in his extremities and heat pooling in his groin. The kiss grows in intensity. Freddie slides his leg up so that rather than twisting himself, he can be more fully onto McCartney's lap, straddling his thighs. Paul places his hands on Freddie's hips and grinds them together. Freddie can faintly feel the matching hardening length through their many layers of trousers and pants. 

Paul finally breaks them apart long enough to talk, "As much as I'd love to get to it in a car, we will be arriving soon."

Freddie understands this. His body is not as young and spritely as it once was and a backseat, even of a nice and large limo, will be infinitely worse than a bed. "And where can it be said we are going?"

Paul blinks, "My apologies I thought I said," He pulls Freddie in closer and whispers over their swallow lips, "Why, I'm taking you back to my place."

Freddie feels his body clench and a hot breath is punched out of his chest. That endless confidence and sly charm is a menace. And Paul seems to know it. "That works," Freddie tries to answer casually. 

They try to slow down and cool things off a little. Freddie sits back so that they aren't chest-to-chest and Paul's hands stop their caressing over Freddie's body. They give each other soft pecks and not just on the mouth. Paul grabs a fistful of Freddie's hair, tilts his head and lavishes his neck with dry sucking kisses.

When all of a sudden, the phone rings. "Argh," Paul bemoans this as Freddie slumps against Paul's chest. With his ear cupped like this he can faintly hear the older man's heart beat like this. Paul reaches over to the console and fishes out the phone. He answers it with a tight yet controlled voice. Close as they are together Freddie can hear the tingy voice of Bob Geldof enquiring where Paul is, if he's still there and if he'll make it to the afterparty. "No, I'm otherwise occupied." Paul answers succinctly.

Which should have been Bob's queue to hang up but instead he goes on about how sorry they are to see him go but how happy they were to have him hear and how much everyone loved his performance. The only word Paul gets in edgewise is to say his performance paled compare to Queen. Bob readily agrees and Freddie feels pride puff up his chest. 

Still Bob doesn't stop talking and Freddie honestly is starting to think Paul should just hang up on him. Instead Paul snakes his hand that was resting comfortably on Freddie's hips to cup his dick, hard. Freddie can't help the moan that is punched out of him. Fred's eyes go wide as he hears the line go quiet. "Right sorry to bother you. Have fun," Bob replies before it goes to tone dial.

"I thought he was never going to get the hint," Paul complains and Freddie feels like he can hear him roll his eyes as the phone is dropped back into its cradle. Freddie unfurls and Paul gently cups his face with both hands, "Now, where were we?"

"Mmm," Freddie melts against his chest and looks straight into those doe eyes before darting down to look his pouty lips, "Here I would think."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, its earned that explicit rating!

With their attention strictly on each other they don't see out the window when they have arrived or feel the car slow to its final stop. There is a chiming sound, like an elevator arriving. Paul separates himself from Freddie and explains, "That would be my driver, but I think we can deem to open the door ourselves." Paul pushes one of the many buttons, this one is next to one with a bell on it before exiting the vehicle. 

Freddie has done everything in the backseat of his cars and so his chauffeurs tend to have the sense based on who Freddie is with and if the privacy screen is raised, whether or not to open his door. He also though does tend to revel in the feelings it draws out in his partners to be seperated and seen by another person, all that passion they must struggle to rein in at least long enough for them to get to privacy again. He doesn't have anything fancy or clever like Paul's chimes or buttons. 

They step out of the car to find themselves in an underground garage. If Freddie had been asked to imagine it, this is probably what he would have thought of; bare concrete walls and fancy luxury cars. They removed their shoes as they enter the house proper and Paul leads him by the hand up the stairs. They arrive to a nice if rather quaint looking mansion. While Elton's is modern art and gleaming chrome and Freddie's is aristocratic antiques with foreign flare; Paul's is wooden with earthy tones, cozy bordering on rustic. 

"This is a lovely house," Freddie tells him truthfully. Freddie has always loved interior design and while this isn't to his personal taste, he can tell its harmonious in theme and colors. 

"If you like this, I'm sure you'll love the bedroom," Paul says looking back with that terrible smirk. Paul was clearly a man who was accustomed to playing the predator and Freddie was eager to be devoured. 

"Mmm, pretty sure what I'll like about it most won't be the decor," Freddie teased right back as he wormed a finger under Paul's sweater, if only they had buttons to start. One of the things Freddie loved the most about presents was unwrapping them, and the same was true of beautiful people and their clothes. 

"Come on now, I'm too old to fuck on my stairs again." The again set a shiver down Freddie's spine. 

They did eventually arrive to the master bedroom. Paul's mansion was huge, especially if only one or two people lived in it. Freddie was hoping it wasn't the only huge thing though. Freddie was -and oh how loved the term- a size Queen. He loved to be fucked, and generally the bigger and the more brutal the better. Freddie just couldn't get enough and satisfying him was difficult. 

"Fetch that chair and place it in front of this rug," Paul ordered. His tone was firm, Freddie was pleased to obey and Paul was pleased to be obeyed. Paul settled himself in the chair like it was a throne, one that Freddie was more than willing to kneel before. "Strip. Slowly."

It was just such a shame that Freddie wasn't wearing more complicated layers, as it was a tank top and some jeans weren't going to be much. Still Freddie was a performer and he knew how to put on a show. He could feel Paul's intense gaze on his skin. He bit his lip as he went first to his belt. He slowly ran the leather through the belt before opening the buckle. He let it hang there open at his waist. 

He reached to remove his armband when Paul spoke, "No. That you leave on."

Freddie looked at him with false innocence, batting his eyes. "As you command." He slowly untucked his tank top from his trousers but didn't remove it. He bent to remove his socks, that he leaving them balled on the rug. He looked up through his lashes before he unfurled himself back into standing straight, This time with his hands at his hips, he slowly tugged the belt through it's loops until it came free. He let it snake out of his hands and onto the floor. He then placed his hands over the top of his jeans. He maintained eye contact with McCartney as he dragged them down his legs, rather than just letting them fall to the ground. 

Freddie stepped out one foot at time before folding the jeans twice in half and putting them aside. He stood again and Paul's eyes had not left his body, running up and down his exposed toned legs covered in coarse black hair. Freddie reached a hand up and behind to grab his tank top, this caused his bicep to bulge. An action Paul's darting eyes didn't miss. Slowly Freddie pulled, scrapping the tank top up and off, to expose an inch of skin at a time. Then all was left were his briefs. 

He places his hands at their waistband when in a single step, Paul was up and in front of him. From this close Freddie could see the singer was a little taller than him. He placed his hands over Freddie's and they together stripped Fred of his last piece of clothing. There was something about being fully naked in front of someone fully dressed. It made Freddie feel less in power, less in control and it was very hot, especially as Paul took half a step back to stare at the whole of him. "You're beautiful," Paul said as he ran his hands possessively over his arms and chest before wrapping a hand around the back of his neck.

They lightly kissed and Freddie bunched his hands in Paul's pullover. "Take mine off," was Paul's instructions as he gave a few trailing kisses over Freddie's jaw. Freddie tried to go slow, to gently ease Paul's pullover up but Paul met him with his hands and yanked it off in one swift movement. Paul wasn't wearing a tank top or any kind of undershirt. There was just his exposed bare chest. Firm, lean and with a few sparse black hairs at the top. 

Freddie and Paul stared intently at each other, sexual tension crackling in the air. Freddie moved his hands to Paul's fly that he unbuttoned and unzipped. He pushed his trousers down Paul's thighs until they dropped by themselves. Paul stepped out of them, never breaking eye contact. Freddie did the same with Paul's underwear. He wanted to looked down at what had just been exposed but a firm hand under his chin prevented him.

"On the bed, under the covers, no peeking and you'll get a reward," Paul said pressing a kiss to the corner of Freddie's mouth.

While it was tempting to peak, Freddie did exactly as was asked of him, sure that good things were to come. Paul dimmed the lights to a reasonable level. There was now the amount of light one would have when sitting up in bed to read before going to sleep, which was still plenty enough to see everything one needed too without it being stark.

Freddie snuggled between the high thread count sheets, all this anticipation had his nerves shot. He felt over sensitized and jumpy. This waiting game had been fun but now Freddie was ready for some action. 

Paul slid into the sheets and grabbed Freddie by the arm until they were nearly chest-to-chest. McCartney started deep passionate kisses that lit Freddie up. All that adrenaline from the two shows earlier, all the lust from the snogging in the car, rewoken in Freddie. 

Freddie wove a hand through Paul's hair and Paul grabbed Freddie by his hips. Freddie could feel himself break out into a sweat as it literally got hotter, and he could feel all that heat pool in his groin. Paul pulled Freddie closer, pressing a thigh against Freddie's rapidly growing erection. They ground like that as the desire for more steadily increased.

When Paul had had enough he rolled himself on top of Freddie. He was between Freddie's thighs and as he moved his knees, Freddie had no choice but to lift and bend his legs. Paul reached his hand down between them. He gave Freddie's cock a single stroke before moving lower to slowly fondle and roll Freddie's balls. He broke from their kisses to suck at Freddie's neck, letting Fred's delicious moans filled the room. Lower still he moved until his dry finger nudged at Freddie's hole. He pulled at the muscle and sunk his finger only until the nail bed. 

Freddie gasped helplessly, "Please."

"Mmm, what is it that you want honey?"

"More," Freddie said as he looked to the nightstand, hoping it would have all that is needed to proceed. 

And indeed Paul reached over easily with one hand and without even looking, opened the drawer and found exactly what he was looking for. Paul's hand returned comfortably pooling enough lube but rather than shove it in cold, Paul distracted Freddie by toying with his nipples. Using his free hand and his mouth, Paul tugged at the buds, working them up into tight pebbles. It felt like Freddie's nipples were connected to his dick and he could feel the stronger plucks making his dick twitch as it useless started to ooze precum into his belly.

Once the lube warmed up Paul easily slid in a whole finger down to the knuckle. Soon after he slid in a second. It was almost too much too fast, the pain bordering on pleasure, but that's how Freddie loved it and he was damned if he was going to ask him to stop. Paul scissored his fingers aggressively, stretching them wide while a third poked at his rim. Freddie knew he had a terribly sensitive rim, he lost it every time someone ate him out, so he couldn't help but to squirm and moan at the added sensation. 

"Oh? You like it when I play with your hole like this?" McCartney questioned as he lightly scraped his thumb's nail around the rim.

"I-Yes." Certainly Freddie was loving this sensation and yet- "More."

"Mmm," Paul said in a voice lowered by arousal as he teased his third finger to the second knuckle, "What's the magic word?"

"I-Please. Please more," To which he was instantly rewarded . Three fingers was now a real thickness inside of him, especially as Paul kept trying to spread his fingers inside. "Thank- thank you, this feels so good. You feel so good inside of me," Freddie did his best to make his appreciation clear.

"Oh, yeah?" Paul curved his fingers and jabbed Freddie's prostate. Freddie couldn't help the scream that was punched out of him. "God, you make such lovely noises. And this is just with my fingers, imagine what you'll sound like on my dick."

"Yeah-yeah, want that," Freddie stammered as he wrapped his arms around Paul's back.

Paul looked at the arms around him and Freddie thought he had somehow fucked up, that he was going to be punished; made to hold onto the bed's frame. Instead Paul kissed the inside of Freddie's bicep right next to the armband. "Hold your legs up for me, babe." 

Freddie complied, lifting his legs and hugging them against his shoulders, leaving himself completely open wide. 

"You're so handsome," Paul said as he stared down at the lovely image Mercury made like that. Paul pulled out his fingers and sat up as to be able to slowly push against Freddie's hole with something thicker.

Like this Freddie could see most of Paul exposed to him. Instead of seeing him first naked in the stark artificial light merely standing there; Freddie sees him in the warm low light of the lamp, an expression of lust on his face and his body dotted with sweat. It was a glorious sight to see.

Paul slid in a unrelenting, steady push. From this position, with Freddie near bend in half, Paul couldn't grab Freddie's hips so much as his ass. Once Paul was in to his base, he stopped himself to let Freddie breathe and relax. Despite the rather extensive fingering Paul's impressive size made it so it took a moment before Freddie felt ready to go again, which he simply indicated with a nod.

Paul hadn't grown weak in his age, giving it to Freddie in deep, powerful thrusts that rocked the whole bed. Freddie could do little more than lie there and take it as moans were punched out of him. He tried his best to squeeze deliciously around Paul on his downstrokes. Paul had a wicked smirk as he looked in delight at the pleasure he was causing. He clearly enjoyed the noises Freddie was making. And as the sensations were so strong and pleasure it was rather easier to make them louder and more frequent. 

Fred felt a bit like he was drowning. As though the sheer sensation of Paul's cock giving it to him in such long thrusts wasn't enough, there were the hands groping his ass and the lustful gaze that raked over his body. 

They were both getting close and Paul took one of Freddie's legs out of his hold to throw it over his shoulder. This allowed for more power from his hips. They entwined their free hands and looked straight into each others eyes. Eye contact could be awkward during sex, it could make things feel too intense or overwhelming, but all they found was perfect understanding in each other. 

Paul freed up Freddie's other hand by taking his other leg also over his shoulders. Paul was pulling so far back he was nearly pulling out before burying himself to the hilt in one a single brutal slam. "Touch yourself," Paul said in deep growl that was unrecognizable as his voice. 

Freddie wrapped a hand around himself and sighed in blessed relief. "I'm so close." The room was filled with a cacophony of noises from Freddie's loud moans to Paul's harsh breathing to the sound their bodies made when they joined. 

Paul tightly squeezed Freddie's hand when he could no longer hold out to the pleasure Freddie's body was giving him. He shouted and not a moment later Freddie came as well, spurting up his abdomen and into his chest hair. 

Paul dropped himself beside Freddie and they lay their catching their breath. Oh yes, today would be a day to remember and not just because of Live Aid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sick with the flu and I tried my best to reread this but honestly I just want another nap.


End file.
